


Cognizance

by Caitz



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Can Spencer Reid Have No Happiness?, Dementia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitz/pseuds/Caitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Ep for Entropy. Reid calls Emily in London after he gets home and tells her his news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cognizance

**Author's Note:**

> So. What a way bring Reid back, amirite? 
> 
> ...Yeah. That was an amazing episode, but I'm pretty sure we need to gather a group to go and camp out in front of the writers room and refuse to leave until they give Reid a proper love interest, or a child to adopt, or just _something _happy in his life, because this is just too much, man.__
> 
> __Warning for spoilers, obviously, and a swear word or two._ _
> 
> __Also, I promise I will someday write a work that is NOT a story from the POV of one of the female characters as they support Reid while he grieves over something happening to his mother (Good Lord is that ever a specific category), but I needed to write something for that episode, and this is just what came naturally._ _

It’s 3 AM, local time, and London is Never. Bloody. Quiet.

It’s not like this is something Emily Prentiss isn’t used to- she’s spent nights all around the U.S. (all around the world now), in dubious hotels in big cities and college towns, even catching catnaps in the middle of police stations. But still it aggravates her to no end and you’d think her position would at least warrant her a flat with soundproof walls.

Not that that would stop the tinny strains of _Auld Lang Syne_ now wailing from her phone. She forgets to change it every time and it hurts her ears more every time, too. It stopped being cute around January 2nd, and now they’re about halfway into the month, and-

“Yes?” she snaps into the phone, trying her best to sound professional through her irritation. _”Someone had damn well better be dying”_ can quickly turn awkward in a job where someone could indeed be doing just that.

“Emily?” The voice on the other end is soft and comfortingly familiar. She feels a moment of confusion which gives quickly to a mixture of annoyance and affection. Surely _Spencer Reid_ must know what time it is here.

“Reid? It’s-” And it’s in that instant that the realization that _of course_ Reid must know what time it is that changes the annoyance to concern. He doesn’t sound panicked. This isn’t like with JJ. And yet. “-it’s really early here” she finishes lamely.

At once, she wishes she’d picked a different opening line. Spencer backtracks with the pace of babble she remembers him reserving for rambling at the BAU team about his latest topic of interest.

“I-I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called, I just- I just wanted- I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I should have waited. I can call back; you should sleep. I’ll just-”

“Reid.” She cuts him off, because now she _knows_ something is wrong. Nobody is in life-threatening danger, or he wouldn’t be apologizing. He probably wouldn’t even be calling; the duty left to Hotch instead. But his voice is exhausted and afraid at the same time, small and sad. “It’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping anyway.” (Not a lie, bless thee, London.) “What’s going on?”

A pause. “I just got home. From our case, I mean. My first case back. We caught Cat Adams. We got them all. Garcia can go home now.”

He’s avoiding, of course. Even though her called her. A small, selfish, part of her is annoyed, but the rest understands all too well. Moreover, this much is good news. 

“That’s wonderful. She must be so relieved.”

“Oh, she’s very thrilled. And very drunk. But Morgan and Savanah are with her.”

“And you’re not with them?” Because even if she understands why he’s avoiding, that doesn’t mean she’s going to let him.

The silence lingers this time. “I just wanted to get home and rest.”

“And call me.” She can hear him breathing, barely.

“It- it was a long night.”

“I can understand. From what Hotch told me before, you took the main role in bringing her down.” 

“Well, sure, but mostly because it made the most sense for me to instead of anyone else. And it- I feel bad about what we had to do to bring her in. Her father killed her mother, and we said we found him. And she was so desperate to find him. She’s still a hitwoman, she still deserves to go to jail, but having to trick her…it was necessary, but still. And she was smart. Smarter than I expected and I should have seen it coming…”

She lets him ramble on about mind games for a bit, the words fading into a blur in her exhausted mind because this still isn’t why he called. Eventually, she knows to stop being patent and start pushing.

“Okay.” She interrupts, in a tone that offers no option for him to keep speaking. “And what happened?”

He falters, though she knows he knows exactly what she means. “I-I’m telling you-” 

“Spencer. What _happened?_ ”

Silence. And then-

“She asked why I took time off.”

“I know you went to visit your mom.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, her stomach clenches. _Of course. Of course. Oh, God, please, no._

“She- was having issues with the schizophrenia. And her doctors stabilized her medication. But…”

Emily can feel the knot of dread, and now she has no desire to push Reid to keep speaking, because she doesn’t want to hear what he’s going to say. But this isn’t about her.

“But?”

He keeps breathing. She can hear the sharpness of it, can almost feel it in her own chest. And then one more breath; a long, shaky sigh.

“Dementia. Probably early-onset Alzheimer’s. She’s-” his voice cracks, and it twists at her heart. “She’s already having trouble remembering me.”

She feels sick to her stomach, heat climbing her throat and rising up her cheeks into her head. The news isn’t shocking. Not for someone like Diana, who’s mind has already so betrayed her for so long. But Reid, who has been gentle and kind and good to everyone for 99% of his life, who has been through so much pain and grief and loss already, deserves at least, _at least_ , to be able to watch his mother grow old and, in the end, hold her hand as she slips away peacefully. And now he can’t even have that. She’s not dead, not yet, but this is somehow worse. It’s a death sentence. The slow loss of her mind long before her body and her son will have to witness every moment of it.

And then he delivers the final blow.

“And I- I could be at risk, too.”

The heat turns to ice. She can’t speak. And now Reid seems to be the one unable to let the silence continue.

“I don’t know yet. I can’t find out yet. I asked Savannah- Morgan’s girlfriend, you know- and she looked into it, but I’m too young. And I just have to live not knowing. And I can, I know I can, because I did it for years with the schizophrenia, and I know the odds and I know I can’t just be afraid, and that there are things I can do, but I-Em, I can’t help it. I’m just so _scared._ ”

He breaks then. She can hear the sob, feels it against her ear, and clenches her jaw against it to remain steady herself. He tries to choke it back, but it’s a losing battle. 

“I’m afraid, I am, and I know that’s natural. But it’s- there’s nothing I can do.” He’s not talking about himself now. “There’s nothing. I just have to sit there and watch it- watch it-” Another sob slips out. “And I know one day I’ll go and she won’t know me. And she’s terrified of that and it’s real for her, it’s happening already, and there’s nothing I can do. Nothing I can say to comfort her. Nothing-”

He gives up, finally, and cries, too exhausted to stop himself or be ashamed. She won’t stop him, and can’t anyway. She wants to reach him through the phone. Wants to book the night flight back to the States ( _“Back home”_ , the little voice in her head still says) and hold him, even if it will make no difference. But she can’t. She’s as helpless as he is and the pain of that puts a lump in her throat that feels as hard as steel. 

The tears last less than a minute. By the time she’s collected herself enough to speak, he’s taking controlled breaths, steadying himself with a fierceness she can feel across thousands of miles. 

“Reid, I- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It’s all she can say, and it feels so _stupid_. So _little_. She can all but hear a version of Spencer’s voice that seems lost to her now, the one she knows so well from plane rides, reminding her that _“I’m sorry”_ is a phrase typically meant to express regret for wrong-doing, and she hasn’t wronged him here.

But the world has. So many times, and the cruelty of it makes her feel more exhausted than ever. But he doesn’t call her out on any of it.

“I know.” He says instead. “Thanks. I’m sorry for, ah-”

“Don’t.” She tells him before he can get any further. And, miraculously, he doesn’t.

“Okay. Okay. But I am still sorry for keeping you up. I’ll let you get to sleep.”

She frowns. “Spencer.”

“I’m okay for tonight. I really am.” And she believes him. It’s not enough, but she is indeed thousands of miles away and can’t do very much. 

“Right. Good. For tonight. But Reid, promise me you won’t try to go through this alone. You know the team won’t let you anyway. You know I won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“ _Reid._ Promise me.”

He sighs again, but it sounds different this time. More like his normal self. Even slightly exasperated, and she smiles just a little. 

“I promise.”

“Good. In that case, I’ll let you go. Just so long as you get some sleep, too.”

“I will.”

They lapse back into silence again, and the sluggishness is creeping at the edges of Emily’s mind, even with everything she’s just learned. If they hang up now, she can manage a few hours. She almost doesn’t hear the noise of the city anymore. Almost. And still, they both just sit and breathe.

Finally, she can’t stand it. “Alright. We should hang up or we’re both going to fall asleep right here.”

He manages a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I might not make it to my bed as is. Good night.”

“Good night, Reid.”

“Wait, Emily?” he cuts in one more time just as she’s about to pull the phone from her ear. “Thank you. Again. Really.”

And she has to swallow over the lump again, but it’s at least a bit easier this time.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> The last line, as you may have guessed, is a tribute, through Professor Severus Snape, to Sir Alan Rickman, may he rest in peace.


End file.
